


Grief

by orphan_account



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Let it be sessions, Minor Violence, Paul Is Sad, Uh angst?, based on december 8th
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21684304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Paul’s flashbacks and emotional stress after he finds out about John’s death.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	Grief

December 9th 1980

Paul closed the door inside of his shared home with John, with snow attached to his hat and coat from the outside weather. Taking in the scent of his home, he began to strip off his coat and place it upon the coat rack in the corner wall. Paul stepped forward, and removed the hat off of his head to hold intently in his cold palms. After bathing in the heat of his home, and fixing himself a cup of tea in the kitchen with trembling hands, Paul seemingly grew more frigid with unspeakable emotions.

His body was perched into the chair, and the steaming tea with the eerily swirling spoon provided a sound beside the clock ticking in his head.

It was still early. There was nothing to do at the studio, and he certainly hadn't known whom to call at the moment. He questioned, if he should even call somebody. Paul placed the spoon down besides the teacup, and rose it upwards to his lips.

_Tap._

_Tap._

_Tap._

Paul wondered if he had gotten any phone calls whilst he was out. Of course he did. So did George, more than likely, and Ringo too. More people, Paul couldn't name them if he tried to though.Paul couldn't swallow, instead the tea just sat there in his mouth, on top of his tongue refusing to go down unless it would meet the upcoming vomit.

_Tap._

_Tap._

_Tap._

Paul joked darkly to himself that he should ring John up, and ask him if how was he doing. Paul had then recoiled, immediately choking on the tea that was slowly sliding down the back of his throat. Him and John shared a bad habit of thriving on dark comedic practices to cope with dreaded loss. John would say it loud, Paul would inwardly say it and laugh at his own antics. Sometimes it would earn him weird looks, but John was the only one that understood it. Then they'd both laugh. It was a connection.

Paul dropped the teacup having the hot liquid spill out onto the table, and onto his crotch. A gasp resounded across the dinner room, and with teary eyes Paul ran his shaking hands through his hair. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." He repeated, breathily and shaking.

Paul abruptly stood up, stepping back from the table to watch thoughtfully as the tea dripped from the ends of the table.

•••

Paul ominously gazed out of the window in front of the kitchen sink, watching timidly as the rain pelted harshly against the glass. With a blink back to reality, Paul figured out that he was impatiently holding the phone up to his ear. Linda had just gone and took the kids to school earlier in the morning, which left the man alone in their shared home to deal with the persistent ringing of the phone. "Hello?" Paul immediately called out once he finally got taken off hold, there was a stilled silence at the other end, which seemed a bit louder than it actually was. To himself he was expecting this to be a prank call, especially for how ridiculously silent it had seemed to be for the minutes that had passed.

Ringo eventually spoke, voice fragile and breathless as if he was running for manyhours. "Hey."

Paul shuddered and closed his eyes, then drew in a breath. "Hi."

"John.."

"I know."

Ringo began to sob, causing Paul to drench in his own unknown state of mentality. "What are we going to do? I'm on my way to New York now and I don't even know what to do."

"Maybe- maybe you could play with Sean." Paul said, his lips moving before his mind could catch up with whatever he was saying.

"Yeah.."

"Mm."

"...Mm."

Paul bit down on his bottom lip, opening his eyes and staring at the rain racing down the window. "I love you Rings." Paul hissed in a breath, forcing his voice to stay steady and firm. "So much. You and George, y'know?"

Ringo choked on his tears, "I love you too." 

•••

— 1964

_Paul was awoken to a soft whisper, and once he opened his eyes. He felt his soul jump out or his body at the sight of John sitting at the edge of his bed. "There it is." John smiled at Paul, it was a rare smile that Paul hadn't seen much before. Whenever he did see it, he was absolutely in love with it._

_"What?" Paul tiredly asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion as John stared fondly at him._

_John simply said nothing at first, all he did was exhaled and mumble something under his breath. The same smile he had a few seconds before became glued onto his face as he rested his warm palm on Paul's cheek, "I wish I could paint you like this. You're so beautiful when you're asleep. Pleasant, unharmed, and at peace."_

_Unfortunately, John's proclamations were blatantly ignored and Paul was half asleep, unable to see only just one John. He was so tired he was seeing two of everything, which meant two John's. "Why- still up- you..why?" Paul groggily asked, lifting his hands to grab at the right John out of two that was there._

_"I'm such a punk. After our first time, I could never just- come to terms with everything. I do love you Paul, so, so fucking much. I'm losing sleep over it."_

_Paul gave up, slumping back to his position and closing his eyes to fall right back asleep._

_John parted his lips to say more, but decided against it and just continued to stare at the younger man. After a few seconds, John exhaled taken back by the beautiful sight before him. "My have you've grown Macca, you're not the fifteen year old brat I've met at the Fete anymore. Now you're all grown, lost all that baby fat and shit. Now you look- you look-"_

_•••_

Paul opened a cabinet door, eyes skimming over the wine and alcoholic bottles. He hadn't seen half of these liquor bottles in a minute, and he wasn't going to say that he hadn't felt a wave of comfort wash over him. He wasn't sure his mental state wouldn't appreciate it though. Or did it not matter? Or did it matter.

_•••_

_— 1969_

_Paul skimmed his eyes over the polished piano, thick tension swimming around the room. Every once in awhile he's press one of the keys, reassuring himself that he was in the now. In the moment. George and John were not having a good day. That was the issue, and it was clear that George had an issue with either John or Yoko. Paul wasn't sure whom the culprit was exactly, and he wasn't whether if he was included too. Paul reasoned with himself to not be "bossy" as everyone else had put it, today. Earlier on it was smooth, cameras rolling about in contribution of their possible last movie; Let it Be._

_George had his lips pressed together, a frown on his face and eyes dark as George Martin conversed with him. The words George Martin was saying could not be engraved into George's mind whatsoever, something was ticking in his head like an alarm clock. Paul noticed, he would always know what George would transform into when he was angry._

_Yoko was humming, singing a song they've been working on softly under her breath as he_ c _ombed John's long hair with her fingers. Paul watched quizzically for a bit, silently reminiscing about how he would finger comb John's hair the same way. After a few seconds, Paul dwelled unpleasantly at the thought before pressing down on another key. His body shuddered at the sound that ringed into his ears, before he placed his other hand on the piano and began to play the beginning of Yesterday._

_It seemed as if as soon as Paul began to play the first few notes; John had coughed, immediately shifting himself upwards from the floor next to Yoko. "Lets just play something. I'm bored."_

_Paul couldn't find energy to argue so he just shrugged and exhaled taking both hands off the keys. "Get back again?"_

_"John wants to try Dig it." Yoko said, her high pitched voice having negative emotions flooding Paul's body._

_Before Paul could say anything, George passed by with his guitar and the aura of anger coming off him was almost as deadly as John's. "He wasn't asking you." George harshly spat, his voice dripping with venom and determination to pierce through someone's soul._

_Yoko looked at John, and John looked back at Yoko. Their gazes holding the same meaning. Paul pressed down on another key, exhaling a breath as anxiety pooled into his chest while John stood up. Ringo who came out of the bathroom, always had seemed to walk in at all the right times. John approached George as the younger man placed his guitar down, rolling his sleeves up to his forearms as if he was willing to do something reckless._

_"Why're you talking to my wife like that?" John asked, no touch of pleasantry in his voice and_ _the way his eyes narrowed unusually at George meant trouble._

 _Ringo glanced over at Paul in question of what was going on now, Paul pressed his finger down on another key, then looked back and pulled on a short smile that meant everything was okay. That was what he had thought for the time being, especially since George and John were quietly bickering to each other. Ringo sat down at his drum set, gaze lingering protectively on Paul's fragile expressions as the younger looked ahead. Paul seemed to be more on the edge lately, everyone noticed that. John never wanted to admit it, but it was clear that he was secretly concerned about his_ _former..flame._

_Out of the corner of Paul's eye, he noticed George shove John backwards with an angry glare. Paul jerked around, watching as George began to burst into the ball of furious flames; "Nobody fucking asked for her to be here! Tell the bitch to sod off and maybe you wouldn't have to be worried about anyone showing her impertinence!"_

_Ringo mouthed the last word George just spat out, then looked over at Yoko whom was staring silently at the two. Paul was immediately tensed, muscles going rigid and anxiety washing over his form like a wave hitting the shoreline._

_Paul pressed down on the key again._

_John whisked around to face Paul, face flushed red with anger that could lash out at anyone. "For fucksake, stop playing the same damn key and do something!"_

_Ringo was just as mentally peeved as Paul was, feeling singlehandedly uncomfortable as everyone else. Suddenly it felt as if everyone that was once here left, leaving the fab four_ al _one, angry and confused. George glared over at John, then at Paul and after a few seconds he began to speak. "Stop talking to him like that, think he's been having the last of your shit. Just like everyone else."_

_John stared over Paul for a few seconds, and then trailed his gaze slowly looked back at George. "Piss off Harrison."_

_George stepped closer towards John, "Make me,"_

_All in a few more seconds, John was suddenly striking George in the face._

_Paul watched helplessly._

•••

Paul rushed into the bathroom, lifting the toilet seat up and throwing up into the toilet. He heaved, cried and screamed out John’s name. Different obscenities, curses of the older man’s name and professions of love. Too much, it was all too much.

Falling back, Paul wiped his mouth with his sleeve and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. He questioned the circumstances he found himself in, and waited for a solution.

•••


End file.
